


Lest the Spark Go Out

by tryptophan



Series: Aftermath [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Defenders Spoilers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryptophan/pseuds/tryptophan
Summary: How Matt ended up where we found him in the final scene of The Defenders





	Lest the Spark Go Out

**Author's Note:**

> ***SPOILERS***
> 
> WILL SPOIL THE END OF THE DEFENDERS
> 
> HIC SUNT DRACONES.
> 
> TURN BACK NOW LEST YOU BE SPOILED.

She wasn’t good and she wasn't bad. She wasn't a Madonna or a whore. She wasn’t a tool or a weapon. She shared her form with the Black Sky, but that form had also been trained by Stick and loved by Matthew. She was Elektra Natchios, and she was no one's slave. She was great darkness and a spark of light. The Fingers of the Hand cultivated the darkness. The mess of a man lying before her ensured the spark of light was not extinguished.  
   
When the building came down it hurt like hell, but she could handle the pain. When she looked at the mess of a man lying before her, it also hurt like hell, but it hurt somewhere she couldn't touch.  
  
_I know what it feels like to be good. Does it always hurt this much?_   were her last words to Matthew before Elektra Natchios died on the rooftop.  
  
_I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you along the way. This is what living feels like._ She thought those would be the last words he would hear before the all-consuming darkness enveloped them both. The pain in her body reminded her that she was alive, and the imminence of her death made life so much more precious. The pain in the unnamed part of her cursed that life and feared the coming darkness. It was just like the last time she died. The last time she tried to be good. She looked at Matthew's crumpled form before her. He didn't deserve this pain. He didn't need it to be good or to feel alive.  
  
The Black Sky wanted to escape from the pit and gave no regard to Matthew. Elektra wanted to escape from the pit, but hurt for Matthew. _Grieved_ , she thought. _I wonder if this is how he felt when I died_.  
   
She leaned in to steal a final kiss, but the kiss was interrupted. She became aware of his breath. She checked and realized his heart was still beating.  
   
The clutching sensation in her chest intensified. Escape from the pit became her only concern. If it was just her she could take her time and do it carefully, but it wasn't just her. She felt most alive when she was dying, but death didn’t become Matthew the way it did her. He needed help. The Fingers sought a draught of immortality, but they didn't tell her how to find it or make it. She was hundreds of feet below the surface of the city with the remains of a skyscraper filling in the shaft and most of the cave. There appeared to be no back door to the grave. That's where they were, after all. They were in the grave of a great beast, and if she didn't figure out something quickly, it would also be the grave of Matthew, the only man she'd ever loved.  
   
If need be, she could carry him out. She'd carried the Iron Fist across town with no effort, and Matthew, even in his armor wasn't much heavier than that. Not enough to matter to the Black Sky, at least. That would require finding openings through the rubble, though. She inspected it from every angle and came up dissatisfied each time. Moving the concrete, rebar, and steel would risk destabilizing the rubble pile and doing more damage to Matthew, whose injuries were already dear. She leaned one hand against the rib of the leviathan and racked her brains to come up with a plan to get him safely above ground where he could get medical care.  
   
Everything went black. There was an oppressive weight on her chest, and she felt as though she was being simultaneously pressed to death and ripped apart molecule by molecule. It all ended with a loud crack that left her head ringing. She opened her eyes and tried to get her bearings. She was on the stoop of a building, probably still in New York. Matthew was lying next to her. A light shone through a window in the door behind her, illuminating both of them. She looked down at Matthew, so fragile and broken and good. Perhaps the Black Sky could teleport like the Fingers of the Hand. Perhaps some residual energy force from the beast had acted like a genie and granted her wish to be out of the pit. Whatever it was, they were out, but he was still gravely injured. I was only thinking of getting him to safety, she realized. I wasn't focused on healing him. That wasn’t who she was, after all. She caused pain and damage. She did not heal.  
   
The light dimmed, and she looked up at the door. The silhouette of a woman draped in cloth was framed in the soft, yellow light that had been illuminating them. She looked down at them, appraising the situation. The woman quickly undid the locks and knelt at Matthew's head, checking his pulse, his breathing, his temperature. He'd removed his helmet in the pit before the building came down, and there it must've remained when the monstrous creature granted her wish. There would be no anonymity now.  
   
"He needs help. Please," Elektra pleaded, finally finding her voice.  
   
The nun, Elektra finally realized, checked his eyes and looked up at her.  
   
"He's blind?" she asked.  
   
 Elektra nodded.  
   
"This is the Devil of Hell's Kitchen," she stated.  
   
Elektra nodded again. "He is a good man and gravely injured. Please."  
   
"What happened? Why didn't you take him to the hospital? Why bring him here?"  
   
Elektra was at a loss. She doubted the woman would believe her even if she told the entire story. "This is where he needs to be," she settled on. "He wouldn't want his identity known." Something deep within her told her that whatever force got them out had had some purpose in sending them both to this location. She had no idea where they were, but maybe it held some significance to Matthew. Perhaps it simply was a place of safety.  
   
The nun looked away, as though weighing options in her mind. "We have limited medical capabilities. We can care for superficial wounds, but if there are any injuries that require surgery, he will need to go to a hospital. We have a nurse practitioner on staff who can evaluate him. I'll get a stretcher and some others to help move him. You should come in, too. You look like you’ve been put through the wringer.”  
   
She shook her head. “No. I can't. I--I just can't." She leaned down to place a final, chaste kiss on his forehead. "Goodbye. I'm sorry," she whispered, and then turned to leave.  
   
"You're welcome to return if you need," the nun said, indicating she though leaving was clearly the wrong decision.

Elektra, back still towards the woman, just shook her head. This wasn't somewhere she could be. She couldn't bear to be around when he woke up, to see his pain and infirmities, to see him regarding her _compassion_. 

"One last thing," the nun called.  
   
Elektra stopped and looked expectantly.  
   
"Is his name 'Matthew?'"  
   
Elektra's lips parted slightly out of surprise. "Yes." Her eyes asked a silent question, and she thought she received a silent answer. "He means a lot to me. Please ensure he is cared for."  
   
"I always have," the nun responded.  
  



End file.
